


I Don't Love You

by 0fsilver



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Prompt Fic, Sexual Content, Sorry Not Sorry, written before season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0fsilver/pseuds/0fsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them)</p>
<p>“I don’t love you”</p>
<p>It stares at him from the meat of his thigh, four words which used to keep him awake as a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Love You

Four words which directed creative hatred and abuse only children really can weave together. Sneering faces bound together in unhappy playgrounds. “I don’t love you”. Sung at him with cruel voices once his mark was discovered by classmates.

Locus was born to the sound of mocking laughs and sympathy.

His Father’s mark was the man's own name, inscribed against the veins of his wrist: cooked and messy. When Locus was nine he watched this same man strangle his mother. Watched her gag and gasp out his father's name with a wet shriek before her body surrendered. Proved what he feared most. Your soul mate's last words branded to your skin.

His father never quite recovered from the realization of what he just murdered.

A soul mate’s last spoken words to you like a weight freckling your skin. It was both a blessing and a curse, and drove weaker hearts to panic and obsession. You never know your soul mate until you can't have them back. Never hear their voice again. Poor individuals with sobbing screams implanted on their flesh. “oh god help us” driving some men mad as they could only imagine what twisting end their potential soul mate might suffer. Locus wonders how the world might be different, were it the first words and not the last. People seemed more afraid of love because of this. Skittish of caring in case the statement implanted beneath their flesh was less than gentle.

It certainly wasn't a promise that your intended was going to be the love of your life. No promise you might even meet them, though plenty of men, women and more fought to chase down their destiny.

He knew a man once who had lost his soul mate within only a heartbeat of knowing her. The words “Excuse me, whoopsie!” scribbled down his shoulder in neat cursive. Gentle and soft as a whisper or doting hand scrawling against skin. He’d been knocked into by a young woman in his early years who said precisely the same. This man told how he tried to catch her, grabbed madly through the crowd in hopes of finding the owner of that sweet voice, but she was gone.

Sometimes you meet your soul mate and they fade away into time and memory as nothing more than a soft wish in the dark. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you never meet them at all.

Locus was born with the words “I don’t love you” like a scar in his body. The letters were broken and fierce, more akin to a frantic scrawl in the dirt rather than letters at all. He’d always feared what they meant. What horrible creature he might become, causing his intended to despise him on their last breath. There were classes and programs in this world with the singular intention of seeking out a potential match, but Locus couldn’t tolerate such things. They were feeding on the desperate hopes of those with something kind on their bodies. A young giggling woman with “Always” imprinted above her right breast. A delicate child unsure of the textured marks of Morse code inside their palm...

They say the your body holds the last words of your soul mate, so you know it’s over. So you can be at peace once this happens. It’s promoted as a blessing by those paying the propaganda. Those who have always been there to maintain order when prophecy is inked on skin from birth.

Locus couldn’t stand such hopeful thoughts. “I don’t love you” became his view of the world. Each new face, each pleasant night wasted on a tolerable body all tossed away by morning with a glimpse of his skin.

“I don’t love you”. The examiners always kept their eyes from his markings respectfully, never commented. The army doctor who treated a bullet wound in his thigh said nothing past the surprised gasp at reading the letters. He was pitied by those who knew, and those eyes followed him. Buried him beneath the heaviness of their pity and disgust. Seeing him only as a creature who would never be loved.

How could a soul mate not love you? How could his destined hate him so much that their last words would drip with such venom? What monster would he become, what devil was waiting for him?

It was hope, that he might never meet his promised. Perhaps fate was kinder than he ever expected and spared him the weight of loving another? Perhaps he was free from that particular pain? He'd met others with no marks at all. Spared this destiny to wonder and wish. Knew plenty were comfortable with the thought, said “That doesn't mean I can't love” while their ideas were practically taboo. Why was it so different for him? Perhaps this was just reassurance that he didn't need love to survive this world.

Locus carried on with his life. Comforted by the lie he strapped to his mind. Locked away childhood tears and broken hearts. He told himself his mark, as a curse, made him stronger.

Then he met Felix.

Felix hid his mark with dedication. He could strut naked as he was born. Prance across the military base where they'd met with no shame-and only the left hand would be covered by a heavy glove guarding the words beneath. He never removed the glove. Never. From their encounters with monstrous invaders, to bar room brawls and inner military disputes, he never lost the bolted glove from his wrist. He said the words didn’t matter, that he couldn’t tolerate caring what his “Soul mate” might say in their last moment together. Felix claimed he’d forgotten what it read at this point, but Locus knew that to be a lie. The only lie Felix would speak, crafty man he was, always told his version of the truth.

Once, he caught the squad’s talented scout hiding in the dark holding the bared hand to his chest. He appeared small and unsure in shadow. Abandoned while plucking the skin of scarred knuckles. Locus left him be, considering perhaps what marked his skin was worse than Locus’ own. “I don’t love you” seemed like a blessing when compared to the pain witnessed in Felix’s eyes that night. He left the man in peace and never spoke of the moment again...but he always wondered.

Knowing Felix meant knowing he would never lie. He seemed talented in /not/ lying. Said, he would never lie and that those who lie are weak. Liars are pathetic. Liars will not inherit the kingdom once the flames reside. Locus would not laugh at this, though he found amusement in Felix’s dedication, and knew for a fact Felix did not lie. It made it easier to trust him. To place his life in Felix's hands knowing when the man said “I got your back” he meant it.

Made it impossible not to fall to his stubborn charms. Eventually falling into bed together from desperation. Heated bodies tearing at one another in the dark while hell raged around them. Begging to feel human again in a world taken by demons. It felt, right.

…

_“_ _Where is it?”_ Felix had asked, stripping his own clothing from flushed skin. Locus knew what he meant and he answered with a small glance to his thigh.

Felix pressed the full weight of his hand over the cursed words on Locus’ skin. Hiding them as he sucked Locus off until they both saw white and fell apart in the comfort therein. They rolled together until morning, until bones could hardly be separated by feel alone and Felix’s glove became as part of Felix himself as his mouth or his crooked canine. He didn’t want to know what Locus’ soul mate might say unlike many others.

It was a small gift Locus had never expected to receive.

…

Days later, when the war claimed everything they knew along with the last strand of themselves, Felix crept into his hospital bed and whispered _“I never want to know.”_ with such ferocity, Locus could only agree. He dug fingers into Felix's hair, dragged the broken mouth down for a kiss and vowed without a sound to never look. He didn't need to know.

As far as that moment mattered, they were the last real things on their world...

Once released from the hospital weeks later, Felix sat outside the room as the tattoo artist blacked out the sour words across Locus’s skin so Felix might never stumble across them in the night. He didn't wince or complain when the artist told him it wouldn't stay. “These things have a way of coming back”. Felix giggled from the door way and Locus told him to continue. He didn't need the brand anymore, it no longer mattered how his soul mate would hate him. Felix's smile from the door made the choice impossibly easy...

And then they became mercenaries.

They broke stars together and relived glory days of flame and gunfire at each other’s side. If Felix sighed, Locus felt it in his ribs. If Locus fought, Felix knew the ache in his bones. They were one as no soul mate might ever be and were greater than such a myth. Both had seen “united soul mates” and viewed them as lies. Both confessed to childhood fantasies of scorching out the words and living their life free from such a weight. It was, refreshing, to not be alone while others lost themselves to the futile search of their “other half”. To travel the stars with another as his Partner and knowing it meant more than “soul mate” ever would. Their lives became their own and whatever fear either might have felt from scattered words on their skin no longer mattered.

Felix wore his glove and kept his brand in the dark when they reached for one another.

Locus returned to tattoo parlors whenever his marks devoured the ink and revealed the letters. They kept their words secret and hidden from each other and that was the most loving they could be without admitting such a thing.

It was the only peace in a chaotic world and neither wished for anything more.

…

Felix drew a gloved fingertip across Locus’ mouth. Pinching his bottom lip as hips rolled together in a shivering need. Fingers flexed and shoulders went tense, demanding more attention as their lungs choked on the taste, flavored as wet meat on carnivore teeth. Felix’s eyes shone in the dark that evening. His hair heavy and wet, stuck to his brow and teeth bared and snapped with each motion. Locus might have believed Felix could unscrew his bones if the man were ever determined enough.

_“_ _I will never lie to you.”_ His partner spoke suddenly. Watching Locus with the weight of the sun captured behind thin eyes and black lashes. They were inside one another with the slip of wet hips and a shivered word. _“I will /never/ lie to you.”_

_“_ _I know.”_ Came his answer with a promising kiss like a seal, and it was never brought up again.

…

Their lives fell apart too quickly.

The job seemed demanding but the pay and opportunities were grand. Chorus could be taken, give it-a few years and they could stop their travels and rest for once. Felix was eager, excited as Locus had ever seen him. The time apart took it’s toll but they could meet and touch and breath in from one another’s lungs in the cover of darkness and that kept them fed. They didn’t care for the lives lost in this war , because it was not them. They never valued the heartbeat of a stranger, only one another, and that made this war easier to play.  
  
“I don’t love you” Was long forgotten. Simply words left to rot on his skin and in the back of his mind, which Felix stroked and cooed and loved him regardless of what he was.

Against Felix's love, he was immortal.

In their world, it was just each other and the rest were carbon statues waiting to crack and fall. Only one another, such things whispered against hot skin in the dead of night when their camps could be left behind. Only them. Only this. No loyalty greater than their own, no soul mate, no hope.

Simply Locus.

Only Felix.

It was their way and they wished to protect that.

Then it was over.

They let another control them for too long and it crumbled.

A jealous man, a ruined pride and underestimating their surroundings-it was a thousand nightmares strung together and sung at once until they were deaf to the noise. The simulation soldiers got lucky, their leaders overcame, and all it took was Kimball taking a chance for Locus to watch as Felix’s life was taken.

Mere luck permitted them to fall together into the last safe building from the united front of Feds and Rebels. A small armory, secured for only seconds and only so wide that Felix’s blood covered the floor in moments. Locus tried to halt the bleeding but pressure and panic could only do so much as his partner smiled from the floor and tried his best not to laugh.

“We have to leave.” Locus fell to his knees as a missile struck the foundation of their last stand, nearly falling into Felix’s paling body, armor now painted red and sour. He could only think of wringing Kimball’s throat in bare hands as Felix’s lips poured wet coughs and his legs stopped kicking.

“Lo,” Felix huffed, forcing words from shredded lungs as a blind man might threat a needle. “I’m not making it out of this.”

Locus easily broke a knuckle or more at the force of his hand striking poured cement, only to splash in his partner’s blood and his stomach knotted with the horror.

“Are you that weak?”

“I can’t feel anything, let alone sarcastic.” He sighed and eyes Locus had only known to burn and devour dulled to a quiet whisper as Felix slowly died. “Locus, I’m not making it out of here.”

“Pathetic!!” He roared and bruised hands on Felix’s armor, delusion and fear guiding wild actions until he’d grappled Felix into his lap as the war continued to circle in bleary voices and gunfire around them. “Lie to me.” Voice cracked into constellations as Felix’s blood streamed down his thigh, soaking through armor and across blacked out words Locus never considered after the first time Felix smiled his way. “Just once, lie to me.”

In that moment, his furious partner, who rivaled the sun and the devil for ambition, seemed peaceful. As if the last bit of pain and doubt so engraved in human bones simply fell out and faded away. He grinned like his death was a joke and with his marked palm held Locus’ hip.

“I don’t love you.” Fell the lie from a smiling red mouth and his last words echoed through Locus’ skin as his partner fell quiet in his grasp.

\---

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